'scuse me, Mr. Dickens, I've got something on my mind
I've tried but I can't seem to let it go
Lately I've been thinking about that little orphan boy
Who's parents died and left him all alone

Then an outlaw came one fateful day
While standing at his parent's grave
And offered him another way to climb
And I wonder
Is that orphan's story mine?

All these great expectations
Meet these grave revelations
Am I the one in control?
Is it all predetermined?
Am I playing a role
Part of a story foretold?

Darrel was on his way up in the world
Everyone knew he'd go far
But life came along, it had different plans
How quickly a dream falls apart

Johnny has no kind of chance in this world
Not from where he's had to start
Who knows how far in this life he could go
If he played a different part

I look around at all of my friends
And still I feel alone
I would follow them to battle
But their story's not my own

They say there's strengths in numbers
But they never think it out
About a path that leads you out
Beyond these city walls

I've got great expectations
Great expectations
Great expectations
Great expectations

Torn between what is and what could be
It's hard to write the story
When the story's writing me

When this great expectation
Meets this grave revelation
Maybe this cover's not yours
When your book's full of creases
And you see that the Grease is
Telling a story
But you've read that one before
So you fight just to show them
That you're not all the same
That under the covers
There's more